


A Life I Would Have Known

by spun809



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholic Dean Winchester, Angst, Canon Typical Violence, Coda, Episode: s06e15 The French Mistake, F/M, Fluff, Pining Reader, Unrequited Love, coda s06e15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 02:04:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spun809/pseuds/spun809
Summary: You are thrown into French Mistake!verse by Anna, who is desperate to have you hide something from the other angels. The only problem when you get there is that you start thinking that it might be better than your own world.





	A Life I Would Have Known

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Much Ado about SPN Challenge over on Tumblr. My prompts were A: Anna/ Angel blade/ and AU (French mistake, End!verse) and this quote from Hamlet “This above all: to thine own self be true. And it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man” (Hamlet I.3).

It was another late night research party in the living room of the oldest living hunter you knew. Bobby was off on a supply run, getting more “hunters-helper” as Dean called it so lovingly. Things were dragging and you laughed weakly as Sam chided his brother about dusting yet another bottle of booze. Both of the boys knew the routine well;, there had been many other nights of bickering over Dean’s drinking. You tried your best to stay out of it. Knowing deep down that Sam was ultimately right didn’t mean you wanted to get on Dean’s bad side by instigating a “chick flick” moment.

Interrupting your darkening musings was a sound you had come to dread, an eerie flapping of wings. Standing there in the already crowded room was an angel you were none too happy to see.

She may have looked like a normal girl to the average person, but you knew better. You had met Anna briefly before, back when she thought she was human like you, but standing in front of you know there was a certain cold glint in her eyes that told you better than words that she was back on the path of being a righteous angel. You also didn’t miss the way her face softened slightly when it landed on Dean, a thought that made you slightly queasy though you couldn’t describe exactly why.

“I need the three of you to do something for me.” Her tone was flat and commanding, not endearing you to her presence.

“Really? I’m shocked.” You had tried to keep the sarcastic edge out of your voice and failed miserably.

The angels always needed something. One would assume with the weapons and miracles of freaking GOD on their side, things like puny humans would be beneath them. Here she was though, popping up out of nowhere to demand you stop working on Earth’s problems to solve Heaven’s.

Dean cast a quick glance in your direction, and you saw the way his eyes examined you, measuring just how upset you were. He had known you so long, it seemed to take only seconds for him to size you up. Still, you thought to yourself, there was plenty that he didn’t know.

You turned your gaze back on Anna, waiting to hear exactly what the emergency was this time. Sam, however, was ready to jump right in.

He put a hand out to touch her shoulder, always seeming to want to be close to that angelic power, eager to get on Heaven’s good side. “What do you need from us?”

“One of the warring factions of angels working for Raphael are trying to get their hands on something we desperately need to keep safe.” She started to pace around Bobby’s living room, gathering random bits of herbs and throwing them in a bowl, “I need someone to hide it in a place that would be extremely difficult for even an angel to find.”

“Well Anna, nice to see you too,” Dean quipped, but you noticed a certain softness in his eyes that told you that he was going to end up helping her no matter what the task was.

“Where’s Cas?” You wanted to see the only angel that you trusted, in any form, at least you knew he would be upfront and tell you what was going on.

“Fighting, obviously,” you ignored her tone, “I’m sorry about the abruptness, but there’s just no time,” she was distracted as she continued rummaging through Bobby’s house, making her way over to the fridge and pulling out a mason jar filled with what you assumed was lamb’s blood. Why did Bobby have to keep stuff like that next to the pizza?

Dropping the tough guy act the older Winchester softened, “Somewhere an angel can’t go, sounds bad for you. How can we help?” Dean was always seemingly ready to battle for her, it was strange how around any other angel he was fierce and direct but with her, he always seemed so much gentler.

Anna traced some Enochian symbol onto the window roughly, you noticed the way her fingers left smudges in the bloody streaks on the glass. She was silhouetted by the moonlight as she turned her pale face towards you, “I need you to keep this safe, guard it with your life.”

She tossed something in your direction, and your hand shot out in front of your face on instinct to catch the mystery object--something small enough to fit within the confines of your clenched fist. It felt like one of those weird plastic key and tag things that you used for storage lockers at a bus station.

Another angel appeared and a battle began. Furniture was being smashed as various bodies impacted them, books toppled onto the floor scattering pages everywhere. In the midst of the fighting, Anna found enough time to pause and lay hands on where the three of you were huddled next to each other trying to figure out just who exactly needed to be punched and why. Things were moving so quickly ever since the angel had first appeared it was hard to even calculate the next move.

“Go, now!” A light emanated from the bloody symbol, glowing like a neon bar sign, it was like some sort of portal.

In the next moment, it felt like every part of your being was being ripped apart atom by atom, but in the span of time it took to blink, you braced yourself for impact, tucking your body in on itself.

Then you heard someone calling, “Cut!”

The glass you had come crashing through didn’t feel like real glass. Life as a hunter had taught you the sharp crystalline sting all too well. This was different. It looked the same, but felt almost like... plastic?

Dean stood up quickly, pulling you to your feet as you took in your surroundings. The biggest shock wasn’t the fake window or even the small soundstage replica of Bobby’s front room on the other side of the fake glass. It was the entire camera crew with lenses focused on you.

“Jared, Jensen, Y/N outstanding,” a man calling from behind director monitors said.

You didn’t know what you were supposed to be doing, and you thought the boys questioning about running or fighting were fairly accurate.

“Why doesn’t anyone seem surprised we're here?” It was the only question you could think of.

It didn’t seem like you were in any immediate danger anymore. It seemed like the set of a television show. You couldn’t understand why you were standing here in this flurry of people and cameras right now. Only after watching as the Winchesters started to sift through the various surroundings did a horrible thought come to you.

You watched as a girl grabbed Sam, even though strangely she called him Jared, hauling him off the stage to some other area. You were looking around trying your best to take in the small details that would give you some clue as to why you were here.

“Jensen, Y/N, you two are going to have to postpone your alone time,” a girl with long brown hair and dressed in apparel that would have looked fitting in a fashion magazine winked at you suggestively, “we need to get you into makeup.” She grabbed you and Dean in opposite arms and drug you over to two chairs with names you didn’t recognize.

You watched as Dean was roughly handled into the chair and even though you heard him insisting he wouldn’t wear makeup, there he was with a face wipe covered in concealer.

When the girl finally left the two of you alone you stared into the mirror, you thought it was odd that under normal lighting you skin would have been splotchy, you never wore any makeup during a typical night of research right now your face was flawless, eyebrows filled in perfectly a light dusting a shimmery eyeshadow played on your lids, it was something you would have only done if you had been going out to get laid.

It was no becoming obvious that your earlier suspicion was confirmed. You were on some show, a show about the boys and you and had been somehow transported here by Anna.

“Dean, I think we need to find Sam.”

He shook his head quickly, his utter bewilderment at the strange predicament had made him monosyllabic.

Finding Sam was easy, he had also seemed to catch on. While you all agreed that this was some television show that was about hunting and your combined lives, none of you could really understand why. The only thing left to do was try and reach out to the only angel you thought might actually be able to help you figure out why Anna had sent you here in the first place.

You walked off the set out the door into some strange parking lot, when you saw the row of identical models of Baby you seconded Dean’s reaction of feeling like puking.

It was sort of easy to imagine the blond-haired Winchester as an actor, you always thought he had the model good-looks for it, but as you watched him throw up a sarcastic prayer to Cas, it was hard to picture this man who had seen so much death and destruction reading lines for a living.

Seeing Cas was a relief, but when you rushed over to him you thought he seemed off. Maybe it was something in his voice, his inflection was slightly confused as you and the boys laid out everything that been going on and while he seemed with it at first it quickly became clear as he sifted through pages of a script that this was not your trench-coated angel but some weird too hot imposter.

“I’m totally going to tweet this one.”

When Cas, turned out to be some weirdo guy called a Misha, you felt utterly lost. If there were no angels working here you had no clue how you were going to get out.

“Look this says J. Ackles and Y/F/I, Y/L/N,” Sam was reading a tiny printed out sign posted on the side of an enormous trailer.

You started to walk up the little metal steps, “why would we be sharing this?” You opened the door.

You didn’t need Dean to point out how ridiculous it was for a pair of actors to have a giant aquarium in their trailer, but you did agree that even bizarro universe Dean would have loved a model helicopter. Your eyes landed on some things that screamed you next, the newest Mac computer was whizzing away on the dinette table, with a giant panda sticker over the little apple logo. When Sam flipped it open you noticed the background picture looked like you leaning over kissing Dean on the cheek, a giant grin spanning your face.

That’s when your eyes darted to the back of the trailer. Your stomach did a funny little dip when you noticed the very large bed tucked away there. You wondered why any one person, even an apparent celebrity would need a bed that large to themselves, but then again it did have both yours and Dean’s fake names on the door.

\---------

“We should try and figure out who exactly these people are,” you said, wanting to know desperately exactly what was going on between not you and this Jensen character.

Sam was quick with his Googling and managed to pull up some fairly embarrassing soap opera material that Jensen was playing out, he looked what you imagined Dean would have been like ten years ago if he had lived an easier life, with a few less hard nights at the bar.

Scanning around the confines of the area you picked up on something subtle that wasn’t imperative to finding your way out of this universe, there were no bottles of half drunk booze scattered anywhere. A flash came through your brain, maybe Jensen didn’t need to drink, maybe Dean wouldn’t need to here.

“I need to get out of this universe Sammy,” you saw a desperation lingering in Dean’s eyes but you didn’t understand exactly why he wanted to go back in the first place.

Life as a hunter was crappy, shitty rooms, bad views and thankless jobs. Not to mention the world that was always coming to a grinding halt every couple of months. It might not be so bad to be in a place where things weren’t hardwired to self-destruct.

After Dean suggested that you all try and gather the same ingredients to Anna’s original spell and do it in reverse to get home, you decided that it felt good to have a direction.

“Jared, no offense but are you sure you want to go with Jensen and Y/N?” The driver was glancing in the rearview mirror at Sam and you were curious as to why it would matter.

“It’s fine, Kent,” you said.

“It’s Cliff.”

“Sure that’s what she meant, Cliff,” Dean muttered absently, “we have um...acting stuff we need to do.”

As the driver continued onwards you found it pretty strange to pass underneath the red neon maple leaf and a sign that read Bienvenue, A Welcome To Vancouver. You had always wanted to travel there, but you were so wrapped up hunting you never really got a chance to go anywhere for pleasure. As you started to turn off into a well-to-do neighborhood you noticed how the homes were gigantic, they looked closer to castles than they did mega mansions, each one on its own huge estate. Slowing the car started to pull up to a large wrought-iron gate, twisted in the center were the joined letters A and Y/L/I.

It took five more minutes just to get up the winding driveway, the house was smaller than some of the others you had passed but it's slightly more simple stature made it more charming. There were windows breaking up the brick exterior every couple of feet, and you could see the soft light pouring outside that the interior was decorated in a modern style that made you think of the days where you would scan through random home magazines fantasizing about your dream house.

When the car pulled to a complete stop, Sam went to hop out of the car, before his door was slammed shut the driver called back to him, “don’t forget to call Gen.”

He threw a confused look backward, “sure,” and waited for you and Dean to get out.

The door was unlocked, you figured with the obvious security these people could afford they didn’t need to go to the trouble of deadbolting the doors. The cameras and gates and the on-site security were clearly doing their jobs.

Inside of the house, you noticed it was even more beautiful that you had surmised from outside, the colors were warm taupes and tans speckled with accents of a soft rose pink. There were huge paintings hung on the walls and even a life-sized wire sculpture standing in the center of the living room, clearly, these people really were loaded. You knew that this kind of designer artwork didn’t come cheap.

You walked into the kitchen casually opening up the fridges and cupboards, again the fleeting thought came back to you that there was not a single bottle of hard liquor to be found, the closest thing you had seen was a six pack of some microbrewed beer in the fridge. This had to be another universe.

Dean was standing in the living room glancing up at the high vaulted ceilings, mouth slightly agape. The younger Winchester was standing by the mantle of a large brick sided fireplace that was set on the wall opposite of the door you came in picking up what appeared to be framed photos though you couldn’t tell what they were.

“Hey guys, I think you need to see this.”

You ran over to where he was staring wide-eyed at the picture in his hand, stomach dropping but also feeling excited at the prospect of having another clue to what was going on. When his finger slipped the simple mat black frame into your hand and your eyes were able to focus on the image you felt something pushing the air out of your lungs.

“What? What is it,” Dean said as he crowded in behind you.

Since you were unable to form words you turned towards him, handed him the picture before getting as far away from him as the spacious room would allow. You didn’t need to keep looking at it to have the image permanently seared into your brain.

Dean, or Jensen or whoever, was dressed in a black tux, a little blue rose pinned on the edge of his pocket. There was a large smile plastered on his face, barring all of his perfect teeth, but a slight gleam of tears was present in his eyes. His arm was wrapped around a woman dressed in a white gown with a sweetheart neckline and tulle skirt, a matching blue rose bouquet clutched in her hands.

This woman, head thrown back mid-laugh, it was someone you had seen day in day out for years. Well, seen in the mirror anyway.

Sam had seemed to gain his bearings, he was laughing himself hoarse by the fireplace. Obviously enjoying the discomfort that had sunk in between you and Dean.

“Fake you guys are married,” he choked out between huge gasps for air.

\------

There was something about the girl in that picture. You knew it couldn't have been the real you because you looked too happy. It was how you felt when you thought for a moment that Dean might see you as something more than just a hunter to pal around with.

That was the other thing. Dean. He looked carefree standing beside you. You could have guessed that this version of him might have been tipsy from a glass of champagne celebrating, not the lined faced man who was standing in this room who always had a flask in his pocket and slept with a bottle of Jack under his bed.

Sam was wrong too, you weren’t devastated because you found the idea of being married and living some celebrity life repulsive. It was the fact that being Jensen clearly was better for Dean and a stray tear slipped past your defenses while you tried to catch your breath.

Everyone's guard was down and the last thing any of you expected was to see the blacked eyed bitch that you had stabbed yourself, walk into the house like she owned the place.

“Jared, baby,” she walked over to Sam and wrapped herself around his middle, “why didn’t you come home?”

“Ruby,” there was a reversal of roles as Deans initial surprise was turning to pure joy at his brother's predicament.

She rolled her eyes, “it gets funnier every time Jensen.”

The use of his alternate reality name clued him further to exactly why this demon chick didn’t look the least surprised to see any of you.

In a loud over-explanative way Dean added, “that’s right because you're not Ruby, you're the actress that plays her,” a beat, “on T.V.”

She just stared at the three of you, in turn, trying to catch on to the obvious joke she felt was being played on her, but none of you truly knew how you other versions of yourselves acted so it was just silent.

Eventually, she managed to drag Sam into a more private area of the house, and you didn’t want to picture having to watch fake Ruby and not Jared making out. Instead, you turned your attention back to Dean, he had managed to make his way into the kitchen and was looking through the cupboards just like you had done earlier. You could tell immediately that his intent was different. He was searching, it made you feel queasy watching as he looked for his next fix.

“What they don’t have any booze in this place?”

You just walked out of the room, you needed to get away from him, you didn’t care that you were in a strange world and an unfamiliar house. Right now there was something about the veneer of peace and solitude that surrounded the place that made you want to dig deeper and investigate.

Going room to room you opened each door and peered inside, occasionally looking further if something caught your interest. By the time you reached what was obviously the master bedroom, you could tell from the huge four poster canopy style bed that was the first one to show any signs of real use that this must be where you and Jensen slept. You ran your hand over the satiny blanket draped at the end of the bed. It was hard to try and work out the case when a huge part of you wanted to just stay in this fantasy world.

Forcing yourself to turn and wandering back down the hallway you took in more photographs, hanging glimpses into a life you could have had. They were stepping stones to memories you never had. Lazy day picnics, all smiles, and laughter. Austere portraits of nature, from hikes and trips you could have taken. When you finally got back downstairs you saw Dean hunched over the laptop sitting down at the dining room table, on the case and ready to get back home.

Pulling up a chair you joined him.

After marveling at the luxuries money could afford you, such as overnighting preserved human body parts, you had gathered most of what you figured you would need to reverse the spell. Sam had come back to tell you both all about how this Geneive person was involved with some otter charity and wanted him to go back home with her. You told him he should go, you assumed that he wasn’t in any real danger from her, so he might as well enjoy the one only night he was going to spend with her.

Dean didn’t sleep in the fake-you’s bed with you. He had curled up on the couch, gearing up for a rough night without any bedtime juice and you watched him for a second as he thrashed against the light sleep that was holding him. It made you think that this wasn’t the dream life you wanted. Dean was still Dean, here or back at home and this version didn’t feel the same way about you as he did about booze. So you just loved him from afar as you curled up by yourself in the giant bed, cuddling the blankets up around your chin.

It was all too early when you woke to the feeling of a strong hand jerking your shoulder lightly. You opened your eyes to sunlight and a blond haired man with green eyes smiling down at you, “Driver’s here, we got some 100-year-old dead guy to pick up.”

Hopping out of bed you threw on the clothes you had found in the dresser of the bedroom, noting that they were what you would have worn if you weren’t so busy dressing for practicality. You figured that in this world you didn’t need to worry about tripping over the hem of a skirt, or something grabbing onto the delicate material and tearing it to ribbons.

You ignored the brief whistle you got from Dean at your new look. You felt good. It might be hard leaving this place but you were on a mission now. You knew exactly what was needed from you.

Sam was already in the car, he had Gen call the driver before he came and got the two of you, it was pre-dawn and the sun was just starting to tinge the sky dusty rose and pink.

When the younger Winchester brother came back holding the overnighted package, you didn’t find it difficult to understand why exactly the driver would want to know what you were all trying to get delivered without going through customs. It didn’t really matter to you if he wanted to think that all of the fake versions of you were doing drugs you just needed to reverse this spell before you started to get too attached to this parallel dimension.

By the time you got back to the soundstage and walked into the model of Bobby’s living room you had noticed what seemed to be a few PA’s wandering aimlessly. You hoped it wasn’t going to be a problem. As you watched Dean paint the sigil onto the window, you heard footsteps behind you, turning you saw it was the same old balding guy that had yelled cut at you yesterday. This was not going to be good.

“Jared, Jensen, and Y/N,” he walked over to you and placed a fatherly hand on your shoulder, “I’m glad to see this dedication from my shows three frontrunners.”

“Sure,” you said shaking his hand off.

While Dean tried to come up with an actorly excuse to why you needed the set, you gauged the reaction on the crew's faces. You had a sickening feeling that you might be forced to do something terrible.

The director took a no-nonsense look at the man he thought was his shows top actor, “and after we shoot this scene you can have the set to yourselves.”

What followed were the longest 8 hours in your entire existence, you knew nothing about how to act in front of a camera. The only thing coming to your mind was a quote from the only play you had ever read in high school, Hamlet, “This above all: to thine own self-be true. And it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man”. You didn’t think it was going to do you much good in this situation. Sam and Dean did their best and you couldn’t see what was so enraging to the director. Who knew that you were supposed to look directly at the camera, or speak in a different inflection. It was insane.

You did think it was funny watching the fake Cas version get his hair tweaked in between takes, it was odd to think of him in context as even remotely human, and this Misha guy was as human as it got. He would sit down behind the three of you during the brief pauses in filming eyes roving over the newest iPhone looking in pure technological heaven. You thought of the real Cas, the one who didn’t even understand what a voicemail was, and it made you snicker.

After the director called it quits you were finally able to start on the task of trying to undo the spell that Anna had created to send you here in the first place. As Dean said the incantation the three of you did the only thing you could think of, clasping hands with the boys on either side of you, you jumped full force at the model window.

When you looked up it was to the back of the director. Pushing yourself to your feet, noticing how the cold cement floor of the soundstage and the weird rubber glass felt crunching under your palms. You knew you were stuck. The only thing left to do was go back to yours and Jensen’s trailer and figure out what you were going to do now that the spell wasn’t going to work.

You blamed Anna, she was the worst of the angels in your opinion. It wasn’t just the fact that she was always casting sidelong looks at Dean, you were a little jealous sure, she was unearthly and gorgeous and just close enough to human you thought she could have a shot with him. Still, there was something about the way that she only flirted with humanity, idealizing all the little aspects of it and forgetting just how difficult living these lives could be. She didn’t possess the same moral human compass that your trenchcoated angel did.

“I have a theory,” you pulled yourself out of your thoughts, “maybe this world doesn’t have magic.”

Sam jumped in quickly, “I have to say I was doing some research last night.”

You huffed dramatically. Only he would avoid spending the night with a nondemonic version of Ruby to study.

“Anyway,” he continued on as if he hadn’t heard you, “all of the stuff that happened last year, I couldn’t find out anything about it happening here. It’s like the supernatural doesn’t exist in this world.”

Dean was drumming his fingers absently against the little table in typical freakout mode, “no God, no heaven, no hell?” It was a little quirk about him that the more worried he seemed to get the less he could stand still. You felt curious about why the fact that not having heavenly battles to worry about was so disturbing to him, in your mind it had started seeming like a definite positive until he said the one thing you had been dreading, “how are we going to get home then?”

You decided that the best thing you could do was to at least get out of this television hell, no more acting and cameras and seeing fake pictures of wounds that were made to look real but weren’t tapped against various mirrors. It was starting to give you a weird headache trying to match the you, you were now, and this other you together. There was too much going on.

As you rounded a corner of the soundstage set up to look similar to some back alley that you might have fought a vamp in back in your other world you saw him, the angel that had come to fight Anna back what seemed like days ago in Bobby’s real living room.

“Dean!” You couldn’t help the scream as the man walked straight for him with his palm outstretched, you had seen the move too many times, and you knew exactly what it could do.

Nothing happened though, just some bulky dark-haired man in a suit with his hand on Dean’s head, with a vacant look of displeasure plastered on his face. You thought you had heard his name before back in the real Bobby’s house, it was Virgil, you were almost certain. Pulling back his hand he peered down at it curiously. That’s when it struck you, this was an angel free zone. He didn’t have the magical eye-burning power that he had back in your world. That meant he could be fought.

Getting the jump on him you threw a quick punch while his gaze was still distracted he didn’t see the quick left hook coming and you landed the first blow right to the underside of his chin. You were moving with the reflexes of your old hunting self and your motions were sure. It was something you had done a million times. You threw punches and kicks moving only to allow Sam and Dean their own room to counter your moves perfectly, the three of you in sync.

“You’re nothing but a dick,” Dean chided, it was his favorite line about angels.

The problem started when some stage crew guy noticed the fight that had broken out between the four of you, you felt arms wrapping around your waist pulling you away from the fray of battle. It was the worst possible moment for that to happen, it would have been all too easy to get this guy into submission. Other crew members came over to grab Sam and Dean and as the three of you struggled blindly not wanting to hurt innocent civilians all you could do it shout obscenities at the angel as he retreated off the set.

When the various people holding you let go, you shook out your body angrily, but Dean was already churning with his new idea.

“Maybe, if he was able to get through here then we might have a way to get back.”

“Yeah but obviously he doesn’t have his usual powers here, otherwise you would be sporting the burned out eye-socket look,” you didn’t want him to get his hopes up yet.

You heart plummeted as you and the boys ran smack into a trap set up by the T.V. shows director, the three of you had headed back to the place this all had started, the fake set of Bobby’s house, and as you entered Bobby’s desk light flicked on highlighting an old man’s face. You wondered briefly just how much money had to be invested in this little show for him to put so much effort into to figuring out your apparent strange behavior. He went to work immediately talking about how he saw himself as more of an uncle figure than a director and you couldn’t help the way your eyebrows rose comically high.

“Wait, so the character, Bobby, you named him after yourself?” Sam was incredulous.

“What?” He seemed pretty unabashed by the whole encounter.

Turning your back you went to briefly confer with the boys about Virgil, you thought he must have been here for a reason and you went to instinctively pat the thing you knew he must have been after that was currently deep in your pocket. Accept as your hand went to the pocket of the little sweater it became apparent that in the struggle the angel had managed to swipe the key.

Dean was building his way into a tangent with the lingering presence of the director but the only words you really caught during your panicked attempts to dig into your pockets was, “we’re Winchesters, all of us,” and, “we matter to that world.”

“Dean, Virgil--I think he has the key.” You broke into his soliloquy.

It was enough to have the three of you skulking off the set for the night. Clearly, there was just too much television drama in this dimension and now you all had bigger things to worry about.

The boys collected themselves and quickly headed out to find the driver. Dean was finding his stride again now that he felt the angels could deliver on a way back home as he asked to go to “Jared’s” place. You clenched your fist against the leather seat. You couldn’t tell the boys but you wanted more than anything to spend the night back at your fake place. There was some sense of peace you got pretending that this was your life that you felt desperate to cling to it. Even more so now that the angel was in possession of the thing that got you sent to this dimension in the first place. Not wanting to cause a huge scene you forced yourself to stay silent, maybe it would be easier to leave this way. You didn’t want to get too attached to anything here.

It wasn’t something you had to worry about for long, which house you were going to stay the night at was suddenly irrelevant, because as soon as you walked through the giant oak and glass doors of the much larger house that was apparently, built for this Jared character, you saw a teary-eyed fake-Ruby rushing towards Sam.

“Misha,” she choked out, “he’s been stabbed to death.”

The three of you were all unanimous in saying, “where?”

After hardly a beat you and the boys made your way to the crime scene. It was interesting how police and crime in this world had a more outlandish feel, you tugged at your model-like outfit that you had put on this morning and felt suddenly uncomfortable like you didn’t belong in a blood stained alley in the middle of a Vancouver night.

A homeless man stood a few yards away, tragically trying to tell a police officer his seemingly ludicrous story, but once you picked up on him talking about someone named Raphael up in heaven, you knew that he had seen something to do with the angelic battle that had seeped over to this realm. Walking over to the figures of the retreating officer and the dirty man, you watched as he stared at the officers back tragically crestfallen at not being believed. He was quick to give you and the boys the same story, obviously hoping desperately to be taken more seriously.

“He stabbed the attractive crying man and then started to pray,” You and the boys exchanged covert looks at the new information.

As he gave the whereabouts of the potential meetup to exchange the hands of the all-important key, you and the boys were trying to prepare yourselves for what might end up being an epic battle. The only thing you could think about was that the place you all crossed over had to mean that you were going to be forced to go back to the stupid studio again, what with people meandering everywhere and undoubtedly being a huge distraction in a full out war against multiple angel’s.

You managed to call the driver to swing around and take you back to the lot. Watching as you drifted into the vast parking lot a lone model of Baby stood out against the cloudy night. It was something you actually missed, getting to drive the impala or riding around feet kicked out the passenger window as Dean tore over miles of open road. You didn’t think the thing you would miss most about your old world was a car that didn’t even belong to you. Here she was though, looking as real and solid as she did back home and it struck you that some of the differences between the two places weren’t that bad after all.

As you came back to what was quickly becoming your regular haunt of Bobby’s fake living room you weren’t surprised that it was Dean who was starting to state the obvious.

“You know that if we drop Virgil to get the key, we might be stuck here.”

“We’ll figure out a way back,” Sam said ever the optimist.

You could see the way the boys were locked in again in their familiar routine. They only had eyes for each other. Dean couldn’t see the internal struggle this world was causing in you but was, of course, wrapped up in what would be best for his brother. He talked about the harshness of your real world and how things were always rough for Sammy but you weren’t mentioned, never even brought up.

It all went back to Dean thinking that he knew you so well. He assumed that you were like him, that you craved the validation of fighting and that saving lives was all that truly mattered. He was blind to the fact that you had never shared the part of yourself that wanted something different, another kind of life. Maybe because he didn’t really want to know.

Sam all the while was trying to intone a bit of reason to his brother, pointing out what he had said earlier about what we meant in this world, again bringing up their undying bond didn’t exist here. All it made you think about was where you fit in, not just to this world but to any of them.

Thinking back onto the acting you had done earlier, it hadn’t been so bad. Hell by the end of the day you thought even the director might be buying the whole thing. A piece of that familiar Hamlet line came back to you. To Thine own self-be true. You were so busy buying into the notion that in your world you were a fighter, but you wondered now what you might have been had you never experienced the loss and death that dragged you kicking and screaming into a world of monsters and demons. Why couldn’t you live a normal life? What was stopping you?

You paced the confines of the small set and started to pick things up off the fake desk, noting how the wood here was some type of pressboard mess nothing like the real maple thing the actually Bobby had back in your world. You thought about the people you knew there and the family you had lost, in the midst of these musings about your other life you were interrupted by the familiar resounding crack of gunfire in an enclosed space, Virgil storm into the tiny staged area, guns drawn and shooting wildly and suddenly the battle was back on.

Drawing his fire you screamed his name in an attempt to focus his attention back on you and the boys. You needed him to come to you that way you could try and get the key off of him. While his eyes were locked onto yours, Dean came from the side, running him into the wall of another cordoned off room and catching him off balance. With only a few well-timed kicks and punches, blood sprang from a gash on his skull and he crumpled to the floor. Your hand dug into his pocket and your fist clutched against the familiar tag of the key Anna had thrown at you what seemed like years ago.

The blood sigil glowed against the little rooms fake window, the growing energy of the portal grabbing your attention, seeing the way that it seemed to grow brighter and brighter the closer that the two boys got to the fake glass. You acted out the next move on impulse, in later days you would temporarily come to regret, tossing the key to Dean. Although his hand perfectly timed the response and shot out to grab the tiny flying object, it seemed like realization had just dawned on him and his mouth was open in a surprised o.

Sam’s eyes snapped to you. Instead of moving in the direction of the Winchesters and the glowing red light you were retreating backward further into the set.

“Dean,” he turned to his brother understanding what you were getting ready to do, “get her!”

It was too late, the boys were being pulled backward through the glass but this time you never felt the familiar sucking sensation. You had stayed and they had gone.

At first, you noticed the way the world seemed to settle back into place around you. There was a certain calmness that was starting to take over given the fact that there were now bodies lying on the ground, some dead and bleeding out while others were just wounded. People were already trying their best to sort through the tragedy and trying to call paramedics, and soon a crew member was walking over to you, wrapping a hand around your shoulder and checking to make sure you were alright. It was something you had done for victims countless times yourself.

It took a few days before you saw any sign of your world bleeding through, and you did your best to steadfastly ignore it. When you thought you heard a woman's voice talking through the static on the radio on Cliff’s car you told him to turn it down, or when a search page came up on your laptop googling Angels, you just closed the screen. Five days after you decided to stay in this other world, you heard the same noise of wings that meant the approach of only one thing, and you were turning to meet it head on in an instant.

“Hi, Anna.”

She looked at you warmly, in fact, you had the sudden suspicion that she had been waiting for this to happen all along.

“Y/N, how are you?”

You just smiled. While you missed Dean and Sam, you were actually settling in here better than you could have hoped and although your heart had panged painfully when you had first met the real Jared and Jensen they had been so amazing you felt yourself falling in line with the new life you had chosen.

“Did the boys get you back the key?” You felt it was only polite to check on them, you could imagine how upset they would have been not being able to have you back. They were used to loss though, and you knew that in time they would move on.

“Yes,” and her face fell slightly, “Dean is upset, I tried to explain to him the best I could about why you stayed, but obviously there are human limitations that were hard for me to get across to him.”

“Please, just let me stay,” you were starting to choke up.

You couldn’t do it anymore. When you had discovered this life, a life where you didn’t have to watch the person you love suffer and drink himself into a nightly coma, where you didn’t have to watch everything you love wither and die in front of you, it had been the greatest relief. It had become too much to think that you could just hop out of this place and go back to hunting monsters. When your eyes had landed on the picture of you and Jensen married and smiling, you had known that if you were forced to go back home it would have killed you.

“It’s not up to me, but if you stay here it will become permanent. I am only able to travel here at great risk with the help of another angel and soon that will become impossible.”

“How long do I have to decide?”

Her green eyes locked onto yours, “it has to be now.”

It felt like every beat of your heart was the ticking of a detonator, and when you said the words you knew the effect would be felt in a universe you weren’t even a part of anymore. You took a deep breath, then whispered the words out loud: “I’m staying.”

She was gone and in the next beat and you were left back on a stage playing the biggest role of a lifetime, the real you.


End file.
